ZombieStuck
by JessyDarlink
Summary: Your name is Dave Strider and you're pretty sure you're the last guy on earth alive. Everyone else seems to have been devoured by the living dead. Or, you think everyone has. Then you find HIM. Dave/John Zombie mayhem and bromance without the B ! R
1. Meet Dave Strider

**Be Dave Strider**

Your name is DAVE STRIDER, and you're pretty sure you're the last one on this planet alive. Alive is more of a general term, yes there are people around, but they do have a nasty habit of GORGING ON THE FLESH OF THE LIVING. Which is, by the way, totally not cool. Especially when they killed all your FRIENDS, or so you think. One never knows in this world, especially since you lost them APPROXIMATELY TWO WEEKS AGO, back when everything went to hell.

You used to have a number of cool HOBBIES, but they are hardly of importance to you now. Instead, you focus on getting some well needed SHELTER from the HORDES OF RAVENOUS HUMAN MONSTERS that threaten from some corner of the darkness. There are many to choose from, though many are BROKEN INTO. You carefully avoid shards of glass from broken store shop windows as you eye your final destination.

It's one of those corner entertainment stores, one that you wouldn't be caught dead in any other time—(you make your own beats, fresh)—but then again, you would be CAUGHT dead LITERALLY if you didn't go in there. Mainly because it was the only shop on the entire half-lit street that somewhat didn't look like someone threw a cinderblock at it. And the hissing of the WANDERING UNDEAD is doing nothing to make you cool and sleek. In fact it's kind of freaking you out, but that's not COOL at all. You guess that this is some odd effect of you missing your BRO and pretty much everyone you knew before, because somehow they're all gone.

You digress with these self-aware thoughts! It's time to open the damn door! The hissing is gradually getting less hissy and more right near your cool ass self !

But first you feel the extreme need to—

**=== Be John Egbert **

Well that's physically impossible. DAVE STRIDER cannot be JOHN EGBERT. That would involve a serious about of magical abilities that do not even exist. Also, who the hell is JOHN EGBERT? The name rings a bell…

**=== Defy laws of Existence and Find Out Who John Egbert Is**

Your name is JOHN EGBERT, and you find yourself in a very precarious situation. Having been vaguely unaware of just what has been happening, you find yourself trapped in a corner. No, not like Nobody Puts Baby in a Corner, because you are a man for Jegus's sake. This is a literal corner, with literal problems you need to deal with, and a literal HAMMER which serves as an AWESOME SMASHY THING. And your LITERAL PROBLEM is VERY LITERAL DEAD THINGS that ooze and smell like an odd combination of DIRT, BLOOD and FAYGO. How it can smell like a soda you are not really sure and you don't have time to contemplate.

Your trusty HAMMER is kind of getting disgusting, having smashed into SKULLS OF NUMEROUS THREATS TO YOUR FRAGILE TEENAGE EXISTENCE. You're surprised you were even able to make it do that, but hey, all in a days work for…

Wait no, you're NOT going to think about your RIDICULOUS NICKNAME. For one it does nothing to alleviate the STRESS and stop YET ANOTHER DEAD THING from slithering towards you. Like he didn't just see you POUND THE EVERLIVING CRAP out of all of his UNDEAD COMPANIONS.

Oh wait.

**talking to yourself log **

**eB: ohhhhhhhhh myyyyyyy**

**stop talking to yourself there's no need to be dramatic **

Your goo-covered hand decided to raise its fist in defiance to being EATEN ALIVE, and as the MOANING DEAD THING uttered its LAST UTTERANCE, you struck down upon it with your ETERNAL HAMMER OF JUSTICE.

Or you know, it could just be that hammer you picked up in the garage when everything went to hell. But you don't like thinking of that, because that reminds you of YOUR DAD and YOUR FRIENDS who have all seemed to have BECOME PART OF THE DIGESTION SYSTEM OF THESE GNARLY FLESH EATERS. Or, you think so, as you step carefully over the gurgling pile of gooey post-human.

It's afternoon now, too much sun to say it's sunset, and your HANDY DANDY WATCH alerts you that it is 3 p.m on the dot. You wonder for a moment what kind of EXTREME LUCK this now entitles you to. Who actually looks at a clock at EXACTLY 3 p.m? That should give you enough luck to find a heads-up penny on the ground and bam make this a party.

And as if LUCK itself was GUIDING YOUR FEET, you found yourself nearing what seems to be the only ESTABLISHMENT that has somehow avoided being destroyed with a pickax. Then again who other than YOU would see the necessity for the items contained within this store? Which, according to the dark sign out front, is "Willie's Entertainment Warehouse" which is sort of a contradiction considering Willie is dead, entertainment is kind of out of the market, and this corner store was not, and would never be, a warehouse.

But no time for this over thinking dilly dally! You have to get inside and get settled! The door is still unlocked, and you don't even see the smear of congealed blood slowly sunbathing near the handle—nope you're too excited to see the SHELVES OF UNTOUCHED MERCHANDISE that is CALLING YOUR NAME IN HUSHED WHISPERS OF ADVENTURE. There is no way anything potentially undead, or alive for that matter.

It's just another night of staying alive, and if the time was any proof, you'd be alive until way into the night.

Now, while you're busy gasming over these sad excuses for movies (because you know Willie was never really good at getting the "blockbusters") it is time to check on yet another character in this grand scheme of things.

**=== Check on Dave Strider **

Your cool ass self was saved, being DAVE STRIDER and all. It only took another swing of your badass KATANA and a swift, agile closing of the DOOR to ensure your safety for the moment.

Unless the threat was inside.

Yes okay, no need to remember that.

You grip your SWORD hard as you glance around. The added darkness of your AMAZINGLY COOL SUNGLASSES does not help shed light on the situation. Or the near dark room in front of you considering it is way past 3 p.m. The store itself is deserted, as far as you can tell by the remaining ceiling light that dangerously flickered. There was a glitter in the back, a glitter you discover by moving closer, is really one of those HIP 70'S BEAD CURTAINS cheap old people used as doors. Oh the things you are learning about the recently deceased WILLIE of WILLIE'S ENTERTAINMENT WAREHOUSE…

Behind there though, you can hear as you move closer, are the hushed whispers of those having a conversation. Or whispered explosions of nonsense. You can't tell which and the last idea is more confusing than the first.

If this was a door, you'd kick it down just to show you could, but sadly it is beads and—

**=== Kick Down the Bead Door**

Now that's just—

You mindlessly attempt to kick your foot into the bead door. Instead of a satisfying explosion of wood and door opening, you instead get a hell of a lot of tinkling noises and the new found ability to walk on one foot. The beads also decided to take you ankle hostage by tangling around them in their beady 70's style claws.

What. Have. You. Done.

The whispering however, continues, even after you stop struggling with the beads to hear.

You end up taking their miserable bead lives with a careful flick of your KATANA, ensuring that only the beads died, and not any skin cells on your precious ANKLE. The whole process still takes several seconds though, and in the aftermath of moving near beads, your ears detect gurgling. Of the non-plumbing variety.

Oh right.

You left the damn door propped open.

What possessed you to do that? Some ironic remembrance of wow this place probably had some customers? Though the fanbase for this place was probably of the 55 and older variety?

DESPITE YOUR STUPIDITY HOWEVER, THERE IS NOW A DEAD MAN SHAMBLING TO YOU. A QUICK GLANCE AT HIS NAMETAG REVEALS THAT HE IS IN FACT WILLIE, THE WILLIE OF WILLE'S ENTERTAINMENT WAREHOUSE. THIS IS HIGHLY IRONIC. YOU CANNOT LAUGH.

Instead, you back up, hoping that the DEMONIC BEADS OF SATAN will somehow TANGLE UP YOUR VICTIM'S SOUL.

But really, all you do is back up into a room, see that a television is on, see that a kid is laying down on the ground in front of it, and then finally see the DEMONIC BEADS OF SATAN turn into the HELPFUL BEADS OF THE ANGELS (for that DEAD GUY), allowing SAFE PASSAGE to what you thought would be a WHISPERING HAVEN FOR NIGHTFALL.

**=== STRIFE! ABSCOND! **


	2. Redo of Chapter Two

Zombiestuck Rewritten Chapter Two  
(I've been busy doing AmusementStuck, I know, I suck. I'm a traitor! Wait till CarStuck starts! I'll never write this! DAMN YOU DAVEKAT PRIZE FICS)

ALRIGHT I AM SO SORRY, normally I handwrite the chapters before I type them and for some reason I misplaced chapter two...and thought I remembered it well enough to just type it. Today I just found it and was like "OKAY NO, THIS IS TOTALLY DIFFERENT THAN WHAT I JUST PUT UP THERE AND ADIASPFIHAPIFHAF I AM A MORON." So now here is the FLASHBACK JOHN EGBERT IN BIOLOGY CLASS redo. Also it is the entire freaking scene, henceforth eliminating FLASHBACK JOHN EGBERT IN BIOLOGY CLASS in chapter 3.

==== STRIFE! ABSCOND!

Strike One: Your blade gets lodged in the neck of the beast. That doesn't help at all, actually. It just makes an obnoxious smoosh sound like overripe fruit attacked with a ninja blade. Which is, essentially, what happened, if undead flesh could be considered something delicious in a fruit salad. It doesn't stop WILLIE, like it didn't stop the NUTRITIONAL FRUIT from making it into that damn salad.

Strike Two: A lunge from your foe. That kid really does seem useless on the floor, doesn't he? If you get bitten because of his blind stupor you swear you will seriously enjoy eating his-

Strike Three: You're down. (You probably expected a nice baseball ref, but you weren't out so much as you were falling down into said BEADS OF UNHOLY UNHELPFULLNESS.)

There is no room to ABSCOND, though you're pretty sure that could have been done earlier if it wasn't for these freaking beads.

WILLE of WILLE'S ENTERTAINMENT WAREHOUSE decided it would be a great moment to trip on top of you and try to eat your face, though in not a way that you would consider pleasing at all.

You blame the unhelpful kid as you try to beat off WILLIE, who you would like to note, smells like really bad cheese.

===== Discover Why the Unhelpful Kid Is Still Unhelpful

Your name is John Egbert and it is like motherfucking Christmas up in here.

For one, you have scored epically when it comes to the hideout department. You were vaguely aware of the trickling amounts of electricity in the city, some places it worked, and some places it didn't. You were always inside before the street lamps were on (some lingering sense of responsibility?) so you never knew which area did and which area didn't. Today, you were lucky enough to hit the mother load-a movie store with electricity.

You find yourself in the back room of the establishment, where apparently various collections of Willie's, re, NOT SO FAMILY FRIENDLY DVDS, were kept, but you hardly look at those. The only reason you're hiding out in his strange section is because there is a working TV in here, propped up on a shelf of even more STRAIGHT UP SKIN FLICKS. You're not sure why you try and look away from them, but you do, feeling a sort of strange embarrassed blush come over your skin. You blame good parenting.

But you also blame the presence of MISSION IMPOSSIBLE 4, which you literally cannot believe this WILLIE has. It reminds you of when you were supposed to watch it-but that seems like an eternity ago-with people and places that seem so far away now.

It also doesn't help that DAVE STRIDER is probably dead, since he never did come to that dat-"MEETING OF THE BROS."

**===Become Flashback John Egbert**

You are now FLASHBACK JOHN EGBERT. Isn't it great what the power of narration can do? Being FLASHBACK JOHN EGBERT, you are not quite aware of this, in fact you are BLISSFULLY UNAWARE of this fact, because to you this is the PRESENT, and you are a SOPHOMORE IN HIGH SCHOOL. You're not even sure what you want to be yet in life, though BIOLOGY has seemed to interest you ever since you DISSECTED THAT FROG BACK IN MIDDLE SCHOOL.

Which explains where you are now, as FLASHBACK JOHN EGBERT IN BIOLOGY CLASS. Woah that seems like a long name. It does nothing to explain your current state of NON-PARTNER HAVING, which is the lowest tier of biology class ever, and that title also doesn't explain how completely LAME it is to NOT HAVE AN EVER IMPORTANT LAB PARTNER. Especially with your FRIENDS already in the class, ROSE and JADE, who work together.

They wave, almost mockingly, at you from the other side of the room. You stare back down at the experiment you're supposed to be doing, since an OWL HAIR BALL OWL PELLET needs to be TORN APART WITH THESE CONVENIENT SILVER STICK THINGS.

Which you're just about to start doing when your QUESTIONABLE INSTRUCTOR whose name has FLOWN AWAY FROM YOU MOMENTARILY, calls you from his desk.

**begin awkward teacher-to-human transcript **

**qI: You're finally going to have a partner, John. **  
**eB: huh? **  
**qI: Do you not know English, kid? **  
**eB: what **  
**qI: New kid, Dave Strider. Dave Strider = your lab partner. He should be back from the office any damn minute. **  
**eB: ...okaaaaay... **

**end awkward teacher-to-human transcript **

You do know English, enough so that you know there's a word for this feeling you're having. Like "omfg lab partner" combined with "omfg new kid whut". You wonder for a quick moment if you should stop watching those TEENAGE DRAMAS because they seem to be affecting your vocabulary.

**====Do Obscene Victory Dance at Prospect of New Friend**

Well that gained you some looks. And an approach from ROSE LALDONE.

**====ABSCOND ABSCOND**

No wait, she's cool.

**start student-to-student transcript **

**TT: John, what on earth did you just do and what was the purpose of said action? **  
**EB: i totally just got a lab partner. **  
**TT: It's probably the new student. **  
**EB: you knew? **  
**TT: Of course. New students are often the topics of conversations. **  
**EB: conversations I obviously am not hearing. **  
**TT: Obviously. But I'm not surprised that you're not placing the most minsicule thought on how bad this could turn out. **  
**EB: huh? what did you hear his criminal record or something? **  
**TT: New kid. No one knows how he acts. For all we know, however...teenage drama-like this may sound, he could be a jerk. **  
**EB: oh no **  
**TT: Cross you fingers, John. **  
**EB: did you not hear my sarcasm- **

**interrupt student-to-student transcript**

Your transcript-er-conversation, was interrupted by the opening of the door. Rose ABSCONDS faster than it would take to TAZER her away. Obviously she knows a potential bonding moment when she sees one.

Ah, male bonding, like those instances of making sultry eye contact- WAIT WHAT SULTRY EYE CONTACT IS NOT ALLOWED IT IS AGAINST THE RULES

**====Examine Said New Kid, No Sultry Eye Contact Por Favor**

DAVE STRIDER sure is new. At least, you think so. He is like every COVERBOY on those RIDICULOUS TEEN MAGAZINES you find at the corner store and ABSOLUTELY DO NOT LOOK AT. Because really the hot colors for spring is not under your EXTENSIVE LIST of INTERESTS. GAMEBRO, on the other hand, IS.

**====Stop Justifying Your Taste in Girly Magazines Flashback John Egbert in Biology Class, Back to the Sunglassed Boy **

Oh right.

He's tall. Taller than you. And he does have sunglasses on, your reroute didn't lie about that, even though it was indoors and mildly cloudy out according to the last time you looked out the window. The glasses however radiate COOL FACTOR, something you don't have.

**begin awkward teacher-to-student transcript **

**qT: Strider, right? **  
**tG: sup **  
**qT: Lab partner, dorky kid with the glasses. **  
**tG: what? **  
**qT: Why don't you damn kids know English-THAT KID, EGBERT.**

_(Transcript momentarily interrupted by your SUDDEN HANDWAVING ACTION. Yes, this has earned you some looks.) _

**_tG: that kid?_ **  
**qI: Yes. Good luck, Strider.**

**end awkward teacher-to-student transcript **

**====Repress Freakout**

You are a stone seriousness of face. What.

**====LOOK BUSY LOOK BUSY**

The STICK THINGS! You grab at them and stab your OWL HAIRBALL OWL PELLET, QUITE UNPROFESSIONALLY ACTUALLY, you can hear the PRECIOUS EVIDENCE of BIRD DIET crunching under your frantic attempts to not look like a derp. DAVE DARES to sit in the STOOL NEXT TO YOU, one that you note HAS NOT BEEN OCCUPIED FOR THE WHOLE FIRST MONTH OF THE SCHOOL YEAR. Better get the feather duster-no wait that's his butt.

**bro bonding moment chat start **

**eB: hi dave! **  
**tG: sup. you're john right? **  
**eB: yep :) **  
**tG: what are you doing to that hairball? **  
**eB: this is an owl pellet. **  
**tG: owl hairball. **  
**eB: why would this be a hairball? hahaha. **  
**tG: bro that whole thing is hair. ha.**

_(Bro bonding moment interrupted by HOLY FUCK DAVE THINKS YOU ARE SOMEWHAT AMUSING) _

You take this as a success. Actually, you would put one the metal sticks in this and call this a cool friendship but you don't want to jump the gun. ROSE was wrong, HA! You laugh a little harder at Dave's next content inquiry just thinking of how wrong ROSE is.

Either way, DAVE is cool. It's the budding of a BIOLOGY CLASS/ HALLWAY BROMANCE of UTTERLY PLATONIC AFFECTION. You've always wanted one of those, especially over a HAIR BALL.

But wait that can't be him on the floor can it?

Oh hold on, that last paragraph was by CURRENT JOHN EGBERT IN WILLE'S ENTERTAINMENT WAREHOUSE.

**====Become Current John and Realize What the Flying Fuck is Going On**

Sometimes you realize you get a little too much into movies.

(See isn't this a lot better? CHAPTER THREE UP SOON!)


End file.
